


Wade Wilson's Adventures in Garment Sewing

by YinNocturne



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Crudity, Canon-Typical Violence, Garment Sewing, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Superhero Costumes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YinNocturne/pseuds/YinNocturne
Summary: Wade makes his own costume. It’s an adventure… There's a learning curve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Deadpool is a beautiful character to write, the fourth wall breakage alone warms the cockles of my heart.

**The Balaclava**

We all know it was just a white t-shirt. It was cheap, though let me tell you, finding one that wasn’t so see-through it defeated the whole point of wearing a mask in the first place. Well that was a nightmare worse than round the clock torture. I just figured, you know, white for purity of intention. I’m really just here to go after Francis’s douche brigade. Pure hearted vengeance - with a clearly defined target! 

 

**Blood stains are a bitch**

No seriously, how do people who menstruate cope. Fuck, the blood never comes out, not without three fucking days and more elbow grease than it’d take to fist Optimus Prime. Whites are never the same. 

 

**I tried black, but I didn’t like it.**

I know the lady said red. But it’s really hard to find a shade that matches my scars! I may not look it, but I’m a real stickler for colour theory, and you just don’t put a warm red next to a cool red. So I figured black is a classic. Fits the whole, mercenary of tragic past goes on a vengeance kick to win back the girl of his dreams. But I really can’t take the monochrome, it gives me hives. 

 

**Roses are red**

And blood is too! It really is a match made in heaven, or hell depending on the way you switch it. But red tracksuits are hard to find, Target really should get on that, and after my last one got shot, stabbed, road shred. Well I couldn’t find a replacement in time to go after Francis’ latest dupe when douchebag number 23 won the lottery of death by Deadpool. Stakes are high so I brought back the black. It’s really not my style, Alathea said I should at least know how to darn my clothes when she heard me complaining about the holes in the dead red suit. Maybe I should look into that. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Needles will stick in more than your eye**

Nobody told me how much needles could  _ hurt _ . Now, I’m not the tattoo kinda guy, surprising I know given my profession, and I never got anything pierced either. So. The first time one of those little fucks stabbed into my finger, no bluer streak had ever been cursed. I’m not squeamish, honestly, but pulling a tiny little sewing needle out of the meat of my index finger was one of the creepiest things I have ever done. Maybe it’s because normally, I’m inflicting pain and suffering on other people, or they’re inflicting cruel and unusual punishments on me, or I’m doing it to myself on purpose. Unintentionally-self-inflicted is a new kind of rodeo.

 

**Knots you need to know**

So, I was threatening this lowlife, as you do. It was beautiful, nice and personal, knife to his throat and my boot on his balls. Only, then I hear this ripping sound and it’s my balls that are feeling a little breezy and just. I finished the job, ok: got what I needed, shanked the scum, and got out. But the damage was already done. My fucking inseam, that I worked so fucking hard on, was starting to gape like the well-fucked ass of the goddamn size queen that porno, you know the one. Seriously, I’ve learnt my lesson, I promise on the sanctity of my balls. I’ll never leave the loose ends untied again. 

 

**A lack of utility**

This backpack has really got to go the way of the dodo. It’s inconvenient and completely ruins my image. I’d love to do a sweet little utility belt, but leather work, bitch I’m so not there yet. But maybe… It’s not like I carry all that much on the job: sword rig, holsters, extra ammo, cash, keys, lube, walkman, lucky. Okay, maybe I do carry a bunch of stuff, but a fanny pack might do it. If I front carry, then I can rig the blade sheaths onto the backstrap, the guns can stay on my belt. I still want a utility belt. 

 

**Layers are for hell**

Trying to stitch through multiple layers of ripstop nylon is the fucking worst. Seriously. The amount of pressure I need to get the fucking needle through the fucking fabric, either the needle gets bent, or it ends up halfway through my thumb. I need a fucking sewing machine already.


	3. Chapter 3

**The cost of the earth**  
Why is everything so goddamn expensive. Deadpool does not have the funds for fucking $40 a metre. Criminals may be cash-rich, but how often to I actually get the time to fleece the bodies. It’s always: lights and sirens - cops coming, gotta run, or even worse goody-goody Colossus trying to steal my fun.

 

 **It’s not a fuck machine**  
Sewing machines should not be so intimidating.

 

 **Lets get bent**  
So. It turns out that handsewing is, like, a skill. And, surprisingly unsurprising, it’s really difficult to sew straight seams. Seriously was not expecting this. It’s seams straight-foward. Heh. Needle down, needle up, not much to it. Then I look back and realise I’m wobblier than a mountain pass. Gotta work on that.

 

 **Measure never**  
You know that saying, about measuring twice, thrice, quice? That one. Well. I have poor impulse control, so I didn’t. That might have been a bad idea. Oops. Bad, past-Wade, bad.


	4. Chapter 4

**Why are the only sizes for small people**

_Wade Wilson has a problem. It’s a very serious problem._

_There are no adult sized superhero costume patterns._

_Anywhere._

_Wade Wilson is disappointed by capitalism, America, and garment sewists everywhere._

 

**Eyes are windows to something alright**

I, have decided I should keep my under eye bags out of sight. They’d get embarrassed if I kept leaving them out in front of everyone and their dogs.

 

**Eyeholes? More like fuckholes.**

Bitch please, why is it so goddamn hard to find something appropriately menacing that doesn’t fuck with my field of vision so much I might as well stick a sign on my back that reads: ‘fuck me up the ass with a chainsaw.” Either it’s too thin and can’t hold shape, or it’s too thick and won’t bend. Or it’s so holey you could see my soul from fifty feet away. I swear I’m not looking for a miracle material, I just want some ocular protection. I’m not Daredevil, I can’t just use 256gsm ripstop nylon with kevlar reinforcement for everything, face included. I’d feel more blind than Alathea.

 

**Duct tape is a superior substance**

Patch jobs are an unfortunate necessity. But thankfully some intrepid human invented, at some point in our _illustrious history_ , duct tape! So even if your costume is literally falling apart at the seams, you can fix it up in a jiffy. It might rip your skin off when you try to get out of it, but really that’s just penance for fucking up the suit in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Why is kevlar so hard to find?**  
What is it with fucking fabric shops and not stocking technical fabric. Seriously, do you think that the average American garment sewist doesn’t have a pressing need for a bullet resistant kevlar, a sweat-wicking spandex blend, or a highly breathable neoprene? This garment sewist begs to differ.

Side note: I employed some out of the box problem solving and came to a lovely little solution. You know where there’s a heap of high-grade munitions proof technical fabrics? Military bases. Yup.

**Leather and Lace (are a fucking nightmare to make)**  
I was thinking. I was thinking that it would be fucking dope to have like, a leather utility belt. Maybe some kickass leather gloves. I just felt like it would push the badass quotient way up. It’s not that different to working with kevlar right.

(I was wrong.)

**Shoulders or Knees**  
Those molded shoulder pads are repurposed roller derby knee pads. Because thrift-sense is a god-given talent that Wade Wilson has carefully cultivated over his lifetime. Becoming Deadpool has only increased his inventiveness.

**Jersey’ll do**  
When you start out, it’s always good to start simple. And what’s more simple that a nice sweatshirt (cough, sweatshop) jersey blend. Hopefully not actually produced by underaged or illegal immigrants.

 


End file.
